


find my soul as i go home.

by paigeetc



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Eric Trade, Soul Bond, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:04:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paigeetc/pseuds/paigeetc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff was expecting Eric. He wasn’t expecting Jordy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	find my soul as i go home.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [absinthine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/absinthine/gifts).



> Dear absinthine,
> 
> So I saw that you had requested possibly the most vague prompt I’ve ever had the privilege of fulfilling - Jordy/Jeff, Post-Eric trade, along with the words “Make me cry,” and for some reason, I decided to take the challenge. This is, apparently, what I came up with. I’m not sure if it’ll actually make you cry, but this sure is a shitload of angst. I wrote this fic over a series of two-ish months, and I couldn’t have done it without my betas [dip_cheese](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/dip_cheese) and [tehcrzy1](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tehcrzy1), to which this fic would have been even more of a disaster than it originally was, my dear friends [ologist](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/ologist) and [red_crate](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate) for letting me scream at them about this on twitter for the past two months, and to [theharvelleroadhouse](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/theharvelleroadhouse), for whom I am always eternally grateful for and for whom this fic would not exist without. 
> 
> I would like to note that the timeline is absolutely handwaved, and that the Skinner siblings are mentioned, but not by name, if that concerns you. 
> 
> Also, I would like to note that this fic includes some music, and if you're a Spotify kind of person, [you can find the playlist I made while writing it here](https://open.spotify.com/user/paigeisahufflepuff/playlist/4bb5B1ZQqlkPml0NlN7RgM). I highly recommend listening to Laurena Segura's "Salvation", linked at the beginning, which was the beginning of the musical influence of this fic. It's not on Spotify, so I've linked it on Youtube. 
> 
> Title is from New Order's Temptation.

_But I know,_

_it's hard to write back with no will,_

_but silence is hard to read still._

_But don't think I have too much pride,_

_to see that I'm on the losing side this time, this time._

[ _Laurena Segura // Salvation_ ](https://youtu.be/2GpdoRrlEhg)

 

Jeff would be a liar if he said he didn’t want to bond with Eric, because he knows, _he knows_ , that they’re incompatible.

 

He’s known it since he first sat down next to Eric in the locker room his rookie year, and all he could feel radiating off of Eric was the sensation of suffocating silence and the overwhelming feeling of nothingness. It was like the vastness in the connection between them was like a black hole, and every feeling Jeff pushed towards Eric was being sucked into a void. The more he wanted Eric, the more they pulled apart like identical magnets repelling each other.

 

Jeff knew that nothing would come of it. Only the Universe could pull people together, and if It doesn’t want two people to be together, like hell you’re not going to be bonded.

-

Jeff hopes as much as he can that no one notices, but he sees the glances that Gerbe slyly throws at him in the locker room when they’re listening to Eric try his best to fumble through some leadership speech during the second period of a game while they’re down 3 points, and he hopes that Gerbs' the only one that saw that.

 

It’s an entirely inappropriate time to be thinking about the flush on Eric’s cheeks, the way his hair flops over his forehead because of the water he’s dumped over his head, how he holds his stick like he knows he can go and do whatever it takes to fix this mess of a game and finally win.

 

He sees, sometimes, tidbits of things that people put online about him, about how he’s _kid_ , with his _rookie crush,_ and his _dimples_. He knows he looks young, but it only serves as a painful reminder of the age gap between the two of them and how it’ll never work. All the teasing in the locker room can’t erase the pain of the emptiness between them.

 

He’s young, he’s stupid -- he doesn’t really know why he keeps trying to make it work, but he does. It’s almost the emotional equivalent of ramming himself into a brick wall, over and over again, like slamming into the boards at practice.

 

It’s even harder when Eric smiles back, invites him over to dinner with his wife, with whom Eric is _actually bonded_ , with his small children running around the living room with tiny plastic hockey sticks. Eric yells after them not to hit the lamps sitting on the side tables, and Jeff’s heart hurts.

 

He smiles up at Eric anyways, to no avail, and Jeff is envious of the oblivion that Eric seems to live in.

 

Jeff doesn’t want some mysterious soulmate that the Universe says is a fit for him, he wants Eric. Or maybe he just thinks he does. Jeff doesn’t really know what he wants. Sometimes he wants Eric, sometimes he just wishes he could be a normal 20-something who didn’t have a weird crush on an unavailable man.

 

And sometimes, like the phases of the moon, it comes and goes. Sometimes all Jeff can feel is the all-encompassing love, or infatuation, or whatever it is he feels for Eric, and sometimes he feels relief that he can at least tolerate the friendship that he brings. Sometimes, Jeff feels like he’s over it. He can pretend he never once felt a romantic attraction to his straight teammate and captain. He can pretend that he’s perfectly happy being friends with the man that he has a crush on.

 

It’s been six years since his rookie year and Jeff calls bullshit on the soulmate shit. The one person that he loved maybe more than his sanity never loved him back, and Jeff sometimes questions what sort of Universe decreed Jeff wanted Eric but Eric didn’t want Jeff. Do one-sided bonds even exist? Jeff remembers some phrase he’s heard, something that went around hockey media for a bit, and he thinks he can compare it to himself.

 

Eric likes Jeff, but Jeff _loves_ Eric.

 

He thinks that sounds just about right.

 

-

 

_But I want your love and I want it now_

_I'd ask you for it but I don't know how_

_I want to hold you tight and I want to now_

_I'd say I love you but I don't know how_

_It's done_

_It's done_

_Permafrost // Laurena Segura_

 

“How’s the Eric thing going?” Gabe asks, tinny over the phone.

 

Jeff is curled up on the floor of his bathroom. He had panicked that no one will ever love him like Eric loved him—even though Eric never loved him in the first place. It almost was as if Jeff had projected his feelings so much there was a glimmer of recognition. He feels like the embodiment of that song that his sister blasted on repeat after one particularly bad breakup, that Band of Horses song. _No one’s gonna love you more than I do._

 

He’s melancholy and probably literally depressed, so he thinks he’s allowed to be as sad as he wants that everything goes fucking wrong for him. Maybe he’s being self-pitying, maybe he’s just fucking pathetic, enough that his brother texts him asking if he’s okay after media one game.

 

He doesn’t tell this to Gabe, but he does call him too late at night on a rare night when neither of them had games to play.

 

“What Eric thing?” Jeff says, and he can feel his face get red in a way that it always does. His teammates would probably chirp him for it.

 

“That thing where where you were obviously in love with him,” Gabe says, like this is obvious.

 

“How do you even know this, aren’t you supposed to be off being the captain of an NHL team?” Jeff says, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he can to try to stave off the headache that’s brewing behind his forehead, and tries to overlook whatever Gabe is trying to get at.

 

“It’s an off night, my child—” Gabe drawls.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Gabe.”

 

Gabe snorts. “Look, I knew that you were in love with Eric—”

 

“Gabe—” Jeff maybe doesn’t want to hear the truth, but he knows that with Gabe he’s going to get it whether he wants it or not.

 

“—but have you ever stopped to think that there’s someone out there that might actually be better for you than Eric? Someone closer to your age that actually has more in common with you besides just being teammates and being the guy that pays attention to you sometimes? Not to mention someone who isn’t married with kids?”

 

Gabriel Landeskog may be kind of an asshole half the time, but there’s a reason he’s the youngest NHL captain in history, so he’s probably fucking right. Jeff hates when he has to admit that Gabe is right.

 

Jeff thinks back to sophomore year health class in high school, where the teachers talked about soulbonds to them like they were adults, not like the fairy tale stuff they heard from the time they were in primary school, the type of stuff that Disney movies are made of.

 

They explained that every person had the ability to bond with someone. It just depended on who you were compatible with, and what you do with it.

 

Some people choose to be friends with the people they’re compatible with, and some choose to have relationships with them.

 

Some people have multiple bonds at the same time, some bond with siblings or cousins, some have platonic friendship bonds while simultaneously in a romantic or marriage bond.

 

He thinks back to his rookie year and meeting Eric for the first time, young and even more baby-faced than he is now.

 

He remembers the giggling. He still can’t really control it, that’s just him, but he remembers someone in the press asking about it and Eric saying, _“He’s pretty easy to make laugh.”_  It’s true, giggling is his nervous reaction to a lot of things. It’s dumb, but it’s what he does. _”He makes you feel like you’re the funniest guy in the world when you sit with Jeff, because you can say anything to him and he’ll giggle.”_

 

Eric probably doesn’t realize that Jeff has tumbled that quote in his head for years, over and over like a ball stuck in lottery machine. Sometimes when he’s stuck awake in bed and lonely, he over-analyses every media quote and action Eric’s said toward or about Jeff. He thinks about going to Eric’s house, seeing him with his tiny kids and his wife, his _bonded_  wife, and Jeff would be a liar if he said he didn’t cry after some of those dinner parties.

 

His sister calls him, telling him that he needs to “get the fuck over that old loser who obviously didn’t want you and let yourself become compatible to other people again.” It’s probably a bit harsh, but it’s true. Historically, his sister is usually right about most things like this.

 

Jeff hopes, a little bit, that that’s changed now. He wants to get to a point where he’s emotionally ready to love someone else, to love someone that’s not the one man he’s been pining after for the entirety of his adult life. In retrospect, that's crazy; that from the time Jeff was drafted at 18, the youngest person to be drafted to an All-Star team (by Eric himself), to now, he has been in love with the least compatible person on his team. A person with a family and kids, totally oblivious to his love for the entirety of it's existence.

 

Sometimes Jeff worries that Eric isn’t _that_ stupid, that maybe he noticed the entire time and decided to humor the _kid_ of the team, the rookie that couldn’t keep his emotions in check. Sometimes Jeff worries that maybe Eric _didn’t_ notice, but everyone else _did_ , and he’s fairly certain that this, at least, is true. If his sister could notice from over the US-Canadian border then he’s sure that literally anyone in the locker room could notice him and his stupid infatuation with his captain who’s 7 years older than he is. Jeff feels the shame wash over him like how the tide rolls in at the Carolina shore; slowly, surely, and persistently.

 

He’s not sure how long he stays that way, in a cycle of self-pity, shame, and anger; not at Eric, but at himself. Jeff’s not an angry person, not really, but the anger he feels at himself for still feeling like he’s missing a part of himself leaves him exhausted, turning over every memory he can remember of the two of them together. He’s come to learn that every single action a person does can always be taken a different way. Was Eric grinning at his stupid dimples flirty? No, it couldn’t because he’s _married_ , he’s obviously not looking for someone, a match, _Jeff_.

 

Jeff Skinner is on the Carolina Hurricanes for six seasons when his Captain is traded away to the New York Rangers.

 

-

 

_Something's crept in under our door_

_Silence soaking through the floor_

_Pinching like a stone in my shoe_

_Some chemical is breaking down the glue_

_That's been binding me to you_

_Disconnected // Keane_

 

Gabe tries to call him right when they’re both supposed to be taking naps. Jeff wipes the tears off his face and tries to predict how god-awful he looks right now. He lets the Facetime request go, and he can tell that his eyes are puffy and red.

 

Jeff hasn’t cried regularly in a while, but all he feels lately is like there’s something building up in his chest, until it’s in his throat and it’s all he can do to try to stop tears welling up.

 

He doesn’t know exactly what he’s crying for. He feels the pain of the team losing its captain, deep in his heart, of the feeling of an ending of an era in which he loved too much and received too little in return. He feels alone, so, so alone, like he sees no end in sight, even though he knows, logically, that there has to be an ending.

 

He feels like he lives in this state of shock, sadness, grief, until it slowly gets better. Some days he imagines Eric up in New York, alone, without his wife, living in his brother Marc’s basement. He imagines how he feels, on a new team, no longer captain, in a city millions of people larger than Raleigh will ever be. Jeff wonders if he’s doing okay, if he gets along with his new team, but he doesn’t text him or call him.

 

Jeff goes through the motions, day in, day out. Wake up, go to practice. Team meetings, lunch, naps. Games. Try not to lose those games too badly. Media. Go home, sleep.

 

The rhythm of the schedule helps, when he focuses on it. Having something to focus on that isn’t Eric is good.

 

He’s feeling better, less like someone died and more like he can stand on his own two feet and be his own person. He thinks he might be able to like someone else again, maybe even soon.

 

Gabe tells him to try Tinder, and Jeff laughs in his face via Facetime.

 

“You should post more on social media,” Gabe says, like that’ll help. “You post like, once a decade on twitter and 99% of those posts are when you meet people slightly more famous than yourself.” Jeff cringes when he’s forced to remember the time he completely made a fool of himself in front of Taylor Swift, and Gabe laughs at him.

 

So maybe Jeff wants something. He doesn’t know what yet, but he’s open to the possibilities of something. Anything, really. He’ll go on a shitty Tinder date if Gabe Landeskog wants him to.

 

Jeff was expecting Eric. He wasn’t expecting Jordy.

-

It’s not that Jeff was purposefully overlooking Jordy, it’s just that from the goddamn moment he met Eric Staal, he was enamored enough to not even consider anyone else, let alone the person of his affection’s own kid brother.

 

Is he even allowed to call him a kid if Jordy’s still older than Jeff himself? Jeff remembers walking in on a conversation where some of the guys were teasing Eric for being a “cradle-robber”. Back then he wasn’t sure exactly what they were referring to, but now he realizes that they were probably teasing him about Jeff.

 

While Eric was the one that Jeff knew he could never have, Jordy was the one that Jeff could, occasionally, think about in maybe a non-platonic way and maybe not feel as guilty. Even though Jeff knows Jordy is a completely different person from his brother, no matter what anyone on the team says, Jeff worries that he’s using Jordy as a means to try to get over Eric. He feels a bout of shame run through him when Jordy’s face pops up while he jerks off in the shower, and he tries to be as quiet as possible.

 

Visits at Eric’s place always seemed stiff, a little too formal, too much like Jeff was trying to overcompensate for trying to act casual but also like absolutely nothing was going on inside of him. Hang-outs with Jordy, however, were the opposite. Jeff never felt like he had to shut down part of who he was in order to feel some sort of control over his unrequited feelings, cold and unrelenting as he felt the shame of still having these intense feelings for years.

 

When Jordy and Jeff hang out, it's a lot of gentle teasing. Even though Jeff’s been teased for years for various reasons, he finds that he almost looks forward for it coming from Jordy, if only because it means that Jordy’s paying attention to him. Suddenly it gives him a new idea that Jeff has to analyse.

 

Things are different after Eric leaves.

 

Maybe the difference is something that is slowly helping him get over this one-sided crush or unrequited bond or whatever he’s been trying to get over for the past however many years.

 

They don’t make the playoffs and Jeff goes home for the summer.

 

The summer is fine. He works out, trains with his buddies and sometimes his siblings, two of his sisters and his brother who’re all playing NCAA. During his own season he tries to keep track of their seasons, and he wonders how everything would’ve been different if he’d gone NCAA instead. He doesn’t regret not going to college, but it’s those times when he remembers how intense his unrequited crush was for the most unavailable member of his team, and he wonders how differently that could have gone. Jeff sees some of his friends who decided to go to university, the ones that live in team houses and hook up with random girls and do whatever they want and don’t have to worry about the spotlight of the NHL.

 

After the whole ordeal with Eric, Jeff no longer tries to imagine what it’s like to _really_  bond with someone. He knew what it was like to fall in love, or what it felt like to _think_ he was in love, for so long, on and off for a better part of a decade. To feel the repeated rejection and try to keep a straight face every time Eric’s wife tried to talk with him. And really, Jeff saw nothing wrong with her, it was mostly just that Jeff lived for so long in jealousy, or envy, or whatever, he always had a hard time remembering the difference.

 

He thinks maybe he’ll be bonded, for real, when he retires. Maybe 20 years later, he’ll find some nice guy at a charity event, or the grocery store, or anywhere, and settle down, maybe get a dog. Jeff can’t see himself ever being bonded to a woman. He doesn’t hate women, it’s just that he’s only ever liked guys. Sam on the basketball team his freshman year of high school, his sister’s senior year prom date Chris, for a brief period of time in Juniors, Gabe. Women are nice to talk to, they’re sweet and kind and half the time have more of a personality than some of the dudes Jeff’s forced to interact with as an athlete, but Jeff’s preference has always just been men.

 

Either way, Jeff imagines himself maybe bonding later in life. Maybe he’s just given up on anyone ever being compatible enough and wanting to be with him for the rest of their lives, but he thinks he’s at a point where he’s also not really afraid to come out. He feels like he _should_ be scared to come out publicly, knows that people can be mean and awful and bigoted, knows that no bonded same-sex romantic partners have come out in the NHL while actively playing. Statistically, there has to be more than a few guys in the NHL who are more bi- or gay-compatibility-leaning. He knows this, but his family (probably) knows he’s probably gonna bond with a guy and they’re all fine with it, so he doesn’t really care what anyone else in the league might think. He can deal with some chirping, his whole career so far has been chirping.

 

Jeff thinks he’s over Eric, even if he’s almost a little nostalgic for what Jeff can only call an _era_ , from the day he was drafted to the day that Eric left to go live in Marc’s basement in Connecticut to play with a different Staal sibling and the skyscrapers and crowd of Madison Square Garden.

 

He goes back to Raleigh at the end of the summer, still bright-red sunburnt from hours of street-hockey with his siblings, aware he’s only going to get redder from living this far south.

 

He runs to the grocery store, buys groceries. He makes sure he’s caught up on the team group text, where Eddie's getting slammed for $300 after another hilarious Instagram dedication to Roberto Luongo. Jeff’s not sure who the fine master is this year, but he’s glad he’s back with some familiarity when he knows he’s probably going to end up in the middle of a kangaroo court in a week or so.

 

The weeks before regular season begin with various team-related things, like the occasional bar night and random team bonding activities. They go to a high-ropes course one day, Hainsey crushes him at bowling another weekend. They try (and fail) at one of those weird escape rooms where Jeff feels like he’s on an episode of that show _Sherlock_ that his sister used to make him watch.

 

One day after training camp Jeff stops and realizes that he hadn’t thought of Eric in awhile.

 

One day without thinking about Eric turned into two, then a week, then a month.

 

Slowly, surely, like day forgets the night, Jeff forgets about Eric.

-

A couple months into the regular season Jordy plops down next to him in the locker room and claps him on the shoulder and asks him to pass him the white stick tape, when a sudden rush of what Jeff can only describe as a flood of static electricity from head to toe.

 

Jeff’s only bonded once, back in Juniors, when he quite literally ran into a guy walking out of the bathroom in some bar that they snuck into after a big game. Jeff, being 16, virtually alone off playing hockey, living in a billet’s house and hopefully NHL-bound, and the guy, 32, who was already married and apparently heterosexual with children and a wife, had amicably decided that it was definitely not a good idea to pursue anything.

 

His teachers never told Jeff how to break a bond while he was in school. If people who bonded got married they could register the bond them through the government if they wanted to be really fancy and official, and get various legal benefits. Despite that, Jeff knows people could go to a doctor, a bond-neurologist, and have them help break it, which is what Dave wanted to do. Dave said that he didn’t want the addition of some _kid_ (and there Jeff was, always a kid), to get in the way of his marriage. They did it secretly, Dave not wanting his wife to know that he suddenly had another bond to a guy—not even a guy, a boy. It stung, of course, at the time, but like with Eric, Jeff seems to have a track record for thinking he has potential with married guys.

 

It’s not something that Jeff thinks about very often; if anything, sometimes he can’t even remember the guy’s name. It was something where he was so young at the time that he’s kind of shoved it into the back of his mind, only pulling out every once in awhile to make sure that it was an experience that actually happened to him, like a vague memory he only really touches on when he thinks of it.

 

He doesn’t want what happened with Dave to happen again. His teachers told him about putting bonds on hold when you have a crush on someone else; and Jeff realises he doesn't want that anymore. He wants this, with Jordy.

 

In a split second, Jeff’s thinks, “What the fuck,” and then, _”Oh my god.”_

 

Jordy pulls his hand away like he’s been shocked, with a face to match, eyes wide.

 

“The fuck,” Jordy starts, but he looks more confused than angry. He’s holding his hand like he was shocked, which is pretty much literally what happened.

 

“Later,” Jeff mumbles, and he can feel how hot his face is flushing right now, and he can feel the social anxiety he gets sometimes well up inside of him, the nerves he used to feel in his stomach when he talked to Eric.

 

Jeff tries not to think about that, doesn’t want to think about Eric any more than he has to.

 

Jeff goes back to wrapping his stick, but his mind is filled with questions—why Jordy, why now, why him, _why_. Jordy was the one guy he maybe liked, just a little bit, even before this bonding; but he was also his old crush, his old _captain_ ’s brother.

 

He manages to get through skate and cooldown, showers and get dressed, and starts walking out of the building alone before he’s chased down by a breathless Jordan Staal.

 

“Hey,” says Jordan, like he’s lost for words. To be fair, so is Jeff. “Can I—” he motions to Jeff’s car.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Jeff says, and only barely remembers to unlock the passenger’s side door. Jordy tries to open it with maybe a hint of too much force, nearly hitting the car next to his, which is, decidedly, much nicer than the Honda that Jeff owns.

 

He buckles his seatbelt, hands shaking, and checks to make sure that Jordy has, too. His mom always warned him when he was learning to drive to make sure that everyone in his car wore seatbelts, and like hell that he’s going to ruin that now.

 

Jeff’s heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest, and when he turns his head to look at Jordy next to him, he finds him scuffing his sneakers nervously against the floor mats.

 

Jordy looks up at him, meeting his eyes. “So I think you gotta turn the car on first, eh?” Jeff can tell that he’s blushing, and all Jeff can do in that moment is burst into giggles.

 

Jordy grins his stupid lopsided grin at him. Jeff turns the key to the car, and the air conditioning turns on full-blast. He's grateful for the cool air in the stifling North Carolina heat.

 

“So where are we going?” Jeff says, because they’re idling in the parking lot, and he suddenly realizes that they actually have to go somewhere now. It’s not that he feels trapped, but he almost definitely just spontaneously soulbonded with the brother of his ex-affections and is now stuck with him in his car.

 

He’s trying really hard not to read into this at the moment, not when Jordy’s looking at him with a look that he’s seen before but doesn’t really know what it means, almost half-expectant, but Jeff’s not the smoothest guy around. As much as the guys chirp him for looking young, he feels as young as he looks right at this moment.

 

“Your place?” says Jordy.

 

“As long as you don’t mind if Elias is home,” says Jeff, trying to wrack his brain for Elias’s routine. He thinks he might be home.

 

Jordy shrugs, says, “Sure,” casual, and Jeff stumbles when he tries to put the shift into reverse, almost throwing it into drive before realizing he needs to reverse. Jeff hopes he doesn’t hit anyone while backing up. Driving isn’t always his best skill set, let alone when driving with someone he may or may have not just bonded with.

 

Shit.

 

Jeff wonders how much Jordy knows about Jeff’s feelings about Eric.

 

It’s mostly silent through the drive home. When Jeff and Elias decided to room together they decided on the shortest drive they could manage within their price range. Jeff doesn’t really see the need for some of the shit that the other guys in the NHL get, like basement rinks and pools and huge houses. He doesn’t see the purpose in those super fancy places; he’s been single his whole life and after billeting and traveling around for so long he feels more comfortable in a smaller space than a larger one.

 

He’s like the opposite of claustrophobic—he used to go sit in the closet of his childhood bedroom when he was upset because it was more comforting. All he really needs is a bedroom, kitchen, maybe a couch or two. Maybe once he gets older and marries someone he’ll get a really nice house, but now, at 24, an age where he could still be considered right out of university to some people, he doesn’t need three floors and six bedrooms.

 

He pulls into his parking space, switches the car off. The car almost immediately becomes sweltering again once the fans stop blowing directly in his face. He shoves the door open as quickly as he can, jittery ever since their moment in the locker room.

 

Their apartment is a walk-up, and Jordy trails after him as Jeff tries his hardest to get his house keys out from the rest of his keys. Car keys, _home_ -home keys, apartment keys, the key to his parents’ gardening shed.

 

He manages to unlock his door with shaky hands, and once he opens the door and it becomes clear that Elias probably isn’t home. No one responds when he calls for him down the hall, so Jeff shrugs and says, “Doesn’t seem like he’s home,” and Jordy looks relieved. _Maybe it’s so he won’t have to reject the soulbond in front of a teammate,_ thinks Jeff, but the thought of suddenly losing another bond, no matter who it is, makes his chest ache with anxiety.

 

They’re in his kitchen, the clouds outside his back window dark like it’s about to rain.

 

Jordy sits at one of his wooden stools at his countertop.

 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Jeff asks, because his mother raised him to be a good Canadian boy.

 

Jordy shakes his head, says, “I ate already,” and Jeff is mesmerized by the way that his blond hair flops to one side.

 

The pitter-patter of the beginnings of the incoming storm hit against the kitchen window.

 

“Are you okay?” blurts Jeff, because he can’t think of anything else to say, and he can tell Jordy’s holding back.

 

“I don’t—”

 

“What?” Jeff asks, immediately getting defensive. He knows this isn’t the time for it, but he’s been hurt too many times for any bullshit.

 

“Were you in love with Eric?” Jordy’s facial expression makes it look like he didn’t really mean to say it, but it’s out there and now he has to answer.

 

A pause. Jeff exhales, runs his hand through his hand, probably messing it up even more than it usually is. “How could you tell?” It’s not a yes or a no.

 

“I think the entire team could tell,” Jordy says, snorting, and Jeff immediately puts his head in his hands and groans. “I swear some of the rookies thought you two were bonded at one point.”

 

“We weren’t.”

 

“I know,,” Jordy says. A bolt of lightning lights up the room through the window, followed by a crack of thunder so loud his mugs shift a bit in his cupboard. It was like the Universe could feel the energy between their new bond and sent the weather to match it. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now.” His jaw shifts, and Jeff finds it endlessly fascinating. Jordy’s face isn’t very symmetrical, and Jeff finds a new thing to look at every time he changes expressions.

 

Unfortunately, Jeff’s not very good at telling how people feel by facial expression alone, so he asks, “You don’t hate me, right?” So maybe he’s a little insecure, he _did_ just bond with his ex-Captain’s sibling and maybe the guy he now likes. He can be a little insecure, he thinks.

 

Jordy looks a little taken aback, like the lightning outside just hit him. “Why would I hate you? I don’t think I could hate you; it’s not like bonding is anyone’s fault besides the Universe, or whatever people believe.”

 

“I don’t think you’re your brother,” says Jeff, and he means it.

 

Jordan is not Eric. Or Marc, or Jared, or any other Staal sibling that might ever exist. Jordan is himself. “You’re yourself. You.” He gestures to him from the other side of the counter. “If that’s what you’re worried about. I’m over Eric.” He tries to look as convincing as possible, but that’s hard when he looks about fifteen years old and turns red at everything.

 

Jordy remains silent for a moment, like he’s thinking, and Jeff lets him. “Have you ever had a potential bond before, Jeff?” he says, leaning on his hand where he’s rested his elbow on the counter.

 

Jeff hums, says, “Yeah.”

 

Jordy says, “When?” like he genuinely wants to know.

 

“I was sixteen,” Jeff says, and Jordy scrutinizes him.

 

“Why didn’t you officially bond with her?”

 

“Him,” says Jeff, “I was sixteen and he was 32 and—” he pauses, tries to collect his thoughts, “we were in some random bar in London—Ontario, obviously—and we ran into each other and spontaneously bonded.” Jeff hates thinking about it. “It wasn’t right, he was a lot older than I was, I was in Juniors, he was straight and happily married with kids and wanted no business with sixteen-year-old me, he was totally against even keeping the bond, so we broke it.”

 

“But you didn’t?” Jordy raises his eyebrows like that’s supposed to mean something.

 

“I didn’t what?”

 

“You didn’t keep the bond? You’re not bonded to him?” If Jeff were to name an emotion, he’d say that Jordy, out of anything, looks a little distressed.

 

“No, I didn’t—really want it, or anything, the circumstances were too much,” he says, flustered. “What about you?” asks Jeff, gesturing to him. If Jordy gets to know who Jeff has spontaneously bonded with, Jeff should get to know about Jordy.

 

Jordy’s face turns a bit dark, like he has something to say that he’s unsure about saying, and Jeff feels a bit panicked.

 

“So you can’t like, freak out or anything,” warns Jordy, and this is when Jeff starts to feel almost a little nauseous about what comes next. He pours himself a glass of water to keep himself occupied.

 

“I won’t,” he promises, busy at the fridge.

 

“You’re not the only one who misses him,” says Jordy, and Jeff almost asks who when Jordy says, “You know how you can have, like, platonic bonds with family members?”

 

Jeff nods, he doesn’t have any personally, but they’re not unheard of.

 

"All my brothers and I bonded when we were younger," Jordy says, "Not really all at the same time, but when we hit certain milestones together. Eric and I bonded when we were in middle school, right after my team beat his in a tournament, and I felt so bad that I went to go hug him in the handshake like and, _boom_. Family bonds. Shit, you should hear about the time I pushed Jared off the swingset and when I picked him back up I thought he had put one of those shocker rings on his hand, but no, apparently the Staal brothers, we’re just. Bonded to hell and back.” By the end of his tirade Jordy’s grinning his stupid lopsided grin like it’s the best thing he’s thought of all day. “It’s why I think we’re always destined to be on a team with each other. But now Eric has Marc and Jared is alone and I have…” he stops.

 

“Me?” asks Jeff.

 

“Well, I was going to say ‘no one’, but apparently I do have you, don’t I,” he says, and his lopsided grin turns almost wolfish.

 

It’s quiet, even the roaring of the rain hitting the window has lulled for a moment. The only thing that Jeff can hear is the ticking of the manual clock on the kitchen wall that Elias insisted that they put up, and the buzz of the air conditioner.

 

“I guess you do,” says Jeff quietly. “If you’ll have me.”

 

“This is going to sound stupid,” says Jordy, rubbing at his eyes, “but I’ve always liked you. Halfway through that first year, after I was traded, I felt awful for how much I had liked you, when you were clearly in love with Eric.”

 

“Sometimes,” says Jeff says, slowly, “When I think of those days, when I was a rookie and how much I liked him and how much I hated that I wanted to be special to him, I feel like it was almost a lifetime ago. Like I’m looking back through a weird window, and I can’t believe that that was me, and I went through so much… self-hatred and guilt and hopelessness, and I can’t do that again. I can’t be in love with some already-bonded married guy seven years older than I am again. I can’t do it.” It’s more than Jeff has said since they got home.

 

 _Home._ With Jordy sitting there at his counter, looking like he’s meant to be there, meant to be with _him_. Jeff feels a wave of emotion flow through him that feels almost a little like affection. _Love_. Jeff feels like he can do this. For the first time ever he feels like he can make a future of this. With someone who actually wants him, and likes him even though he looks like he’s not even halfway through puberty yet some days, and has uneven dimples and once embarrassed himself in front of Taylor Swift.

 

“So. Is this something you want to do?” asks Jeff, even though he doesn’t think he can handle another rejection, not yet. “I don’t know how to convince you that I know you’re not Eric; I’m over Eric, I promise. I just want—you. You’re you.” He probably sounds like an idiot, but he feels like everything is written on his face. The dimple has most likely made an appearance.

 

Jeff doesn’t know what he did wrong, because Jordy starts laughing, says, “I want to try this for as long as you’ll have me.”

 

Jeff probably looks as dumbfounded as he feels, because there's a tug in his chest that’s probably the soulbond settling in, and all Jeff hears, feels in his head is a repetition of _He wants me, he wants me, he wants me, I want him, I want him I want him,_  his heart beating steadily along.

-

It's a few weeks later and they still haven’t told anyone, but Jeff thinks some of the guys have picked up on it.

 

Jeff maybe holds onto Jordy’s hand in an abandoned hallway after practice while they’re talking about Eric’s kids, Jordy’s nephews, as Jordy flips through pictures on his phone. For once while seeing their family photos, it doesn’t leave Jeff with jealousy, only happiness that Jordy loves his family so much. Jeff is happy, genuinely happy, not like he thought he was with Eric, but actually happy with Jordy. He’s happy being with him.

 

They’re in the locker room, their stalls mysteriously next to each other this season for a reason that Jeff can’t explain. As Justin walks by he winks at the two of them together, and Jeff has to do a double-take.

 

By the time Elias accidentally finds them kissing in their living room, Jeff’s pretty sure the whole team knows (at least officially) via group text within the next three minutes, because he can see Elias reach for him phone in his back pocket as he backs out of the room silently.

 

Jeff can feel a rapid series of buzzes in his pocket, and when he checks it later they all say variations of _“Fucking finally,”_ and, “Protection, boys,” and Jeff wants to bash his head into the nearest wall. Not because they’ve finally been outed, but because his teammates are the dumbest shits on this planet, and he loves them for it.

 

They’re not out publicly, but Canes PR seems to be putting them together for media bits more and more, and they’ve already decided that they’re not exactly trying to hide anything. If one of his dumbass teammates accidentally outs them on Wednesday night television, then whatever. Whatever happens, they’ll handle it together.

 

He thinks that Jordy’s probably told his brothers, considering their bond, and he doesn’t even care. His sisters all managed to weasel it out of him almost immediately, and his brother just sent him a meme via Facebook, because it’s not a Skinner family debacle if there’s not at least one pop culture reference involved.

 

He wakes up two weeks later with Jordy curled up behind him, warm and breathing steadily, and when he checks his phone he sees a text from Eric Staal himself: _If you hurt him, I have two other brothers that know where you live._

  
Jeff smiles, locks his phone, and falls back asleep.


End file.
